


Are Friends Electric?

by Emerald



Category: Moonlight (TV)
Genre: M/M, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-20
Updated: 2009-06-20
Packaged: 2017-10-15 08:37:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/159026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emerald/pseuds/Emerald
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Josef and Mick running on pure Adrenaline after saving Beth (Missing Scene, post Episode 13)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Are Friends Electric?

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the small fandom fest on Live Journal.

“It’s cold outside. Collar turned up against the night air, you pass by a man standing on the street corner, the orange tipped glow of a cigarette illuminating his face.

Beth? Beth is safe, home now, where you dropped her off less than an hour ago. And Josef, Josef is by your side, moving with you through the dark lit night. Down streets, and along alleyways, making your way back to your apartment. Both charged, electric, adrenaline coursing through blood streams, and heightening anticipation. Memories of the evening’s prior events still fresh in your minds.

You pause when you reach the threshold. A split second moment of hesitation as you check the space that surrounds you, needing to know who might be watching. And then your fists are bunching the front of Josef’s shirt, and you’re dragging him through the open doorway.

“Mick?”

“Shut up.”

Josef gives in, easily. But then it’s always been easy with you. Roles are being reversed here; usually it’s the other way around - Josef cajoling, seducing, and you being the one to fold without effort.

Not now. Not this time. This time, you’re the one in control.

Or so you believe.

Mouths and hands seeking heated contact, bodies pressing together. And you’re negotiating the distance from the door to the bench in a frenzied tangle of limbs, and fangs.

Fingers fumble with fastenings on material accoutrements, clothes are shed, falling in crumpled heaps to the floor below. And then you’re lifting Josef up onto the laminate surface, laying him back, pressing his legs against his chest. And he’s snarling ragged breath commands at you, demanding that you fuck him.

Beth…Beth will be here later. You’ll cook dinner for her, and contemplate each others company. You can’t think about that now though, now all that matters is complying with what’s been requested of you. And Christ, Fuck you want this so badly.

Almost desperate now, needing to expel the excess energy pent up inside, you reach for the bottle of oil, and slick yourself with a hurried application. And then you’re pushing your way inside him, penetrating his body, feeling the tightness of his space as it encloses around you.

And shit it feels good; it always feels so fucking good when you’re with him – so good, so right, and so effortless.

Josef’s nails are digging into the flesh of your back, leaving raised parallel lines of scratched crimson; his legs are wrapping themselves around your waist. And he’s growling out another round of furious commands, breath fanning hot against the side of your face, telling you to go faster, needing you to fuck him harder, wanting you to go deeper.

Doing as you’ve been told, you pick up the pace, thrusting deeper, and deeper; pounding into him harder and harder; the crescendo building. Moving with you in frenetic sync, Josef’s hips are rising and falling with your own, and you can feel his heels digging into your arse, urging you on. And Josef’s left hand is traveling downwards, his right hand still clutching at your back, now dampened with a layer of sweat. His fingers are encircling his own hardness, and you’re watching as his hand begins to works its way back and forth over the length of his own cock, trying to match time with your increasingly out of control rhythm as you continue to slam your length into him repeatedly.

There’s no holding back now, there’s never a chance of either one of you holding back, not when you’re together, not like this.

And then you’re both teetering on the brink, suspended on a knife’s edge, muscles tensed and heads thrown back. Fangs bared and red rimmed eyes flashed to ice blue, you sail off the edge together, both offering synchronised cries of release to the air that crackles, and sparks around you.

And you sink sharp teeth into muscular flesh as you’re swept into the vortex, and a single thought breaks through the haze of your own pleasure.

“Are friends electric?” 

Because the two of you have been plugged in, switched on, and high powered voltage since the very first day you met.


End file.
